sportsanime | Bonus Round 1: Memory

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Bonus Round 1: Memory

Let's start our summer by looking at the past—things that happened in canon, or maybe in an AU, or maybe just as wishful thinking...

This round is CLOSED as of 7PM on June 9 EDT. Late fills may be posted, but they will not receive points.

Please read this whole post before commenting to ensure that your team gets the most points possible. (There are changes from last year!)

RULES

Submit prompts by commenting to this post! You prompt should consist of one scenario beginning with the phrase "Remember when", along with any ship/ot3/etc. from our list of nominated fandoms.
- Your prompts can take the form of recalling canon facts/events ("Remember when Nozomi and Eli got parfaits after school?"), non-canon events ("Remember when Megumi and Jin met at the Tadokoro Family Reunion?"), or somewhere in-between ("Remember when Bokuto and Kenma first met?"). Headcanons and AUs are welcome!
- Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. (This is not the sports anime gen olympics.) Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Rei & Nagisa). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Rei/Nagisa). Please don't say "Any pairing," either!
Post fills by leaving a responding comment to a prompt with your newly-created work.
Remember to follow the general bonus round rules, outlined here.

FORMAT

Brand-new works only, please.

Required Work Minimums:

400 words (prose)
400px by 400px (art)
14 lines (poetry)

If PROMPTING:	If FILLING:	If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to, including Grandstand or Sports Teams Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Place the prompt's relationship in the first bolded line of the comment. Including the canon isn't required, but it's nice. Below that, place applicable major content tags (when applicable; otherwise write "no tags" or "none") Visual example	FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Replace RATING with the rating of your fill (G - E) Place applicable major content tags and word count before your fill (when applicable; otherwise write "no tags" or "none") NSFW FILLS: Please cross-link these fills and use clear tags in your comment. Written/text fills should be hosted at AO3 ONLY. Art/visual fills can be hosted anywhere. You may include a small safe-for-work preview of the fill in your comment. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" alt="DESCRIPTION OF YOUR IMAGE"/> Visual example	FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING] Replace RATING with the rating of your fill (G - E) Place applicable major content tags and word count before the fill, where applicable NSFW FILLS: Please cross-link these fills and use clear tags in your comment. Written/text fills should be hosted at AO3 ONLY. Art/visual fills can be hosted anywhere. You may include a small safe-for-work preview of your work in your comment. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" /> Visual example

code of conduct

SCORING

For prompts: 5 points each (maximum of 50 prompt points per team per round)

First 3 fills by any member of your team: 20 points each
Fills 4-10: 10 points each
Fills 11-20: 5 points each
Fills 21+: 2 points each

All scored content must be created new for this round.

Etc.

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Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru ; Haikyuu

Remember when you sacrificed your memories of us to save my life?

POUNDS FIST ON TABLE

NO

(i'm still gonna fill it though)

iwaoi, 691 words
minor description of injury

I.... ended up writing a Tsubasa:RC AU because paying with your memories for someone's life is so painfully CLAMP, and I'm sorry if this makes no sense. (IF YOU WANT ME TO EXPLAIN I WILL GLADLY FLAIL ABOUT CLAMP AT YOU, NO WORRIES.)

--

They stand before the witch a third time and their hands are empty.

Something that tastes of winter curls light around Oikawa’s mouth, like only the faintest breath of magic left; and then only the faintest breath from his lungs, wet and softly moving, the melt of snow in spring. His remaining eye is closed; there is nothing left in it to give, even if he were strong enough to give it.

(The blood is cold in Oikawa’s veins, but it’s been cold for a very long time.)

Minutes slow down to years around the witch; she looks at them not without kindness, and this above all unsettles Iwaizumi more than he wants to let on. He shifts a little, unbalanced by the years accumulating like weight on his shoulders and Oikawa is heavy, slung onto Iwaizumi’s back awkwardly; too tall, always too tall. Iwaizumi never did get that extra centimetre he longed for so much.

“The price is high, maybe too high,” the witch says, and the falling snow hangs suspended around them. Years turn back to minutes for one hiccough moment, and Iwaizumi’s spine runs cold as something wet pools from the weight on his back. He wills himself not to look; he can smell the iron in the air.

“Let me decide that,” Iwaizumi grunts, and the witch sighs.

“You have already given me your sword, and your sword arm,” she gestures with an elegant hand at the empty scabbard still hanging by Iwaizumi’s side; a mint green ribbon is tied to the lip, a gentle reminder of the first price he paid. His empty coat sleeve is a careful reminder of the second. “Your life isn’t even yours to give, you left it in the hands of that little princess.”

Iwaizumi lets himself just the smallest smile; it’s the memory of a little blonde pigtail circled with stars and the determined set of a mouth, in the face of danger, in the face of overwhelming fear. He learned more from that memory of resilience than he did in all his years of training, and he knows in that moment about the value of things.

“I can pay with my memories of home and of my service,” Iwaizumi says, and he tries to keep his voice steady as Oikawa’s breath stutters in his ear, slowing down even in this timeless place. It feels like years since he’s heard Oikawa’s carefree chatter, and it aches like a phantom pain. “What is of greater value to a knight than his fealty.”

And now the witch truly looks upon him with pity; it darkens her eyes, and it’s like looking into a void, and Iwaizumi hates it.

“Then I will take your fealty, and your meaning of home, but those you did not leave with the little princess.”

Something touches Iwaizumi’s thoughts and he remembers a night sky, endless and dark and full of stars long dead, and the feeling of a pale cold hand in his while they stand together at the end of a world.

“Ah,” Iwaizumi says, as the witch remembers his memory of a kiss, sweet with pearl sugar, stolen right after breakfast on a world where he and Oikawa had raced for a trifle. The weight grows heavier on Iwaizumi’s back and he grows angry with it; it feels like he’ll never have enough time. “I’ll pay it, just get this idiot off my back.”

It might have been a smile that Iwaizumi sees on the witch’s face before everything goes dark, and he might have heard the squeak of something across wooden floors, and a strange bouncing rhythmic sound that echoes off of rafters; but then the world changes.

--

“What did you leave him with?” The wizard’s voice is bemused, gentle, and when he turns his head to look curiously at the witch, the shadows slide away from the light ash of his hair.

“Nothing. A false hope, maybe.”

But the witch also remembers blonde hair aloft in the moonlight, and resilience, and the promise of home. She shakes her head of the memory, and the curtain of her hair falls dark across her face.

nO I DON'T WANT TO READ THIS *scrolls down to the fill immediately* 'Iwaizumi never did get that extra centimetre he longed for so much.' It's the little things like this that made me so upset ;_____; HIS FINAL LINES he's s o brave and devoted even when he's giving everything away THAT MEMORY OF THE KISS you wrote with such poetry and then the volleyball reference, I'm crying, the imagery conjured up with 'the squeak of something across wooden floors, and a strange bouncing rhythmic sound that echoes off of rafters' I REALLY LIKED THIS. This is beautiful.

*shuffles off to cry in a corner*

YOU'RE TOO KIND, THIS IS SUCH A NICE COMMENT, thank you so much, I tried to give them a little bit of hope and a happy ending, because ;v; I want iwaoi to be able to go home one day.......

MAKES HUNDREDS OF EYE EMOJIS BECAUSE TSUBASA AU

FUCKING TSUBASA RESEVOIR CHRONICLES AU

gods you don't know how many months I've waited for someone to do a TRC!AU for Iwaoi AND NOW I LIVE. It's got that "oh shit got real" tone that TRC gets into when everything's serious, and Sakura!Yachi *nods in approval* and I presume, Yuuko!Shimizu? Or is it just Yuuko?

Either way, good job! there's a sort of hefty finality when the decision is made, and those last few lines, as CLAMP is wont to do, is a bittersweet reminisce. Thank you for writing this!

HI HELLO I AM SO DEEP IN CLAMP HELL I CAN'T EVEN SEE THE LIGHT, I'm not even gonna lie, I say this all the time, but iwaoi is basically my modern fix-it au for kurofai and I keep coming back to it. Thank you for reading haha, <3

(Also, yes, that's Sakura!Yachi and Yuuko!Shimizu!)

no tags
777 words

It's taken Oikawa weeks to find him again.

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to track him if he were looking for Iwaizumi normally. He can think through Iwaizumi's thought patterns, figure out the places where he might go. They've known each other their entire lives, it's not that hard, really.

But he's not the same Iwaizumi anymore, and that's what has stopped Oikawa up for so long.

When he finally manages to catch up to him, he's chopping wood outside a tiny tavern, looking rustic and completely at home in a place that he's never belonged before. (The only place that Iwaizumi belongs, as far as Oikawa is concerned, is with him. Side by side. As they were always meant to be.)

And some foolish, childish part of him is hoping that Iwaizumi when he lifts his head to wipe the sweat off of his brow, is going to recognize him. There's nothing of the sort in his eyes when he looks at Oikawa. There's surprise at seeing a prince so far afield, standing ten feet away with gold around his neck and wrists.

"Afternoon," he sounds gruff, uncertain, rubbing sweat off the back of his neck. "Are you... lost?"

There are tears running down Oikawa's cheeks because in large part he's just glad to see Iwaizumi alive. There's a scar running vertically down his face, from his temple to the corner of his mouth, one that's new, and it makes something shiver inside of Oikawa's chest. He can't help that he's crying, that while trying to desperately scrub the tears away from his eyes, he blubbers out 'Iwa-chan'.

"I'm... sorry?" He hovers a few steps closer, holding a hand out like he's scared Oikawa is going to keel over at any moment and awkwardly clearing his throat. "Are you alright?"

"I'm... you're--" Oikawa stops, drawing in a shuddering breath before he grabs Iwaizumi and sobs into his shoulder like he wants to.

And God, he doesn't know how to make Iwaizumi remember him, or how to explain how the two of them have found themselves in this situation. He tamps the tears down the best he can, still sniffling through the mixture of misery and elation in his chest. "Y- you're Iwaizumi Hajime."

"Yes?" He says it like a question, fingers curled in the back of his hair. It's an old, old habit, and Oikawa's chest aches to see it, the way he tugs at it when he thinks. "And you're the prince."

"Yes," he says in return because he doesn't know what else to say. He dares another step closer, searching Iwaizumi's face again and again for any sign that Iwaizumi remembers him.

Still, he gets nothing.

"You... how long have you worked here?" He asks instead, trying to push what Iwaizumi does remember.

"Few weeks. I move around a lot, I guess," he doesn't sound entirely certain about it.

"That's not right," Oikawa ventures, because he's always been terrible at waiting, impatient, especially where Iwaizumi is concerned. "You're usually with me."

"What?" He blinks, face going blank at the suggestion before he barks out a laugh. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious!" Oikawa puffs his cheeks out in aggravation, not bothering to wonder how he got pulled into arguing already. "We grew up together. You're my knight, you belong with me."

"That's--" Iwaizumi starts out looking amused, but his brow furrows a moment later, shaking his head slightly. "No. I'm-- I travel a lot. I grew up on a farm..."

"No you didn't!" He's shouting now, and the tears are back on his face, and he can't stop himself from grabbing Iwaizumi's shoulders. "You grew up in the palace! With me!"

"I've never met you before," Iwaizumi answers, but he doesn't sound sure of it. Tentative, fingers shaking, he touches Oikawa's cheek. "I've never--I would remember..."

"You... I got sick. It was really bad," Oikawa would give anything if he could just stop crying. "And--you went and talked to this witch... and she said she could heal me but you had to pay a price."

He rests his head against Iwaizumi's shoulder, shaking it furiously. There are trembles running down his back, his shoulders, like his frame is trying to shake itself apart. "And you forgot me. I told you not to do it but you forgot about me, Iwa-chan!"

It's a surprise when Iwaizumi's arms wrap around his shoulders for a moment, squeezing him close before gently detaching himself. "I'm... sorry, Your Majesty. But I think you have the wrong person."

"It's okay," Oikawa scrubs the tears off his face once more, hiccuping a sob out. "I'll fix it. I'll make you remember, alright?"

oh no

crying, relieved Oikawa, only to be hit by reality again when he realises Iwaizumi doesn't remember him. I can actually feel the desperation, as well as Iwaizumi's confusion like its on the tip of my tongue?? That's amazing. Thank you for writing this! :D

memory loss, ambiguous circumstances, 857 words (writing this whole thing felt like a fever dream *lies down* im sorry)

When you open your eyes, you see a boy.

He’s sitting beside you, on a chair right by your bed, and when he smiles at you, it’s so sweet, and so deep that it actually hurts to look at. His face is framed by brown waves, and you don’t know why, but your fingers twitch.

(you want to reach out, you want to touch him, but he’s just a stranger—
—isn’t he?)

“Hello, Hajime,” he greets happily. “Please call me Tooru.”

You incline your head in due courtesy, and that’s when it hits you: you’re tired.
The lethargy is bone-deep, sweeping across the whole being of your body like a spider crawling all over, its scratchy tips leaving weak tremors in its wake.

You want to sleep.

But something in you refuses to let you close your eyes.

~~neverletmegoneverletmegoneverletme--~~

A soft laughs cuts through your confusion, and you turn to look at the boy again. He seems a tiny bit abashed, rubbing the back of his sheepishly before he brings himself to speak. “I know you’re probably really tired and all, and I know you need to sleep.” His eyes shine with something akin to hope, wetly in its sheen. “But, will you lend me just twenty minutes of your time? Just twenty minutes for me?”

You croak out a hoarse “yes”, and that’s all Tooru needs.

He drags his chair closer, and leans his elbows upon your bed. When everything about him is this much closer, something somewhere begins to ache.

“Treat this as a bedtime story,” he says quietly, “maybe, even a fever dream.”

You tilt your head in question.

“Because the next time you open your eyes,” Tooru pauses, swallows, “it might be harder to remember me.”

You still don’t get it, and you frown at him for explanations, but he claps his hands, merrily, merrily, quite contrary, when did his eyes turn so sad?

Tooru lifts his head straighter, then, he begins.

“Once upon a time, there was a boy, and he was very, very sad. He kept chasing after things that just would not come to him. He cried, he screamed, he didn’t know what to think.” Here, Tooru takes a deep breath. “All he knew was endless frustration, all his dreams slid out of reach.”

It doesn’t really strike you until you feel a slight brush against your fingers; both his and your hands have inched closer, and you think it’s alright to just leave them be.

You huff for him to continue, the weight behind your eyes making you impatient for the lull of sleep. Surprisingly enough, it makes Tooru laugh, and your heart warms at the sight of it a bit.

“You’ve always been so impatient, Hajime.”

“H-How would you k-know?,” you struggle to speak.

Tooru’s doesn’t really answer, just shrugs and goes, “I just do.” He moves on. “But, we digress. So, this boy, one day he meets another person. Another boy. And they both learn something new.”

He grins, wide and true, and you don’t know why you feel this way, why do you feel so burnt through?

“They both learned how to love each other, and in turn, themselves as well. The sad boy grew to be not so hard on himself anymore, whilst the other boy looked out for him.”

“That’s nice,” you rasp out, and Tooru lips lilt into a crooked grin. He says, “It is, isn’t it?”

But something about Tooru dims the slightest bit. His hand falls over yours in the tightest grip, and in earnest, he looks into your eyes, all desperate, all grit. “That’s why you must not hold it against him for doing this. The heart may not remember, but the body always will, and if by chance one day everything falls back together, please, please, don’t be mad at him.”

His hand tentatively comes up to brush your cheek, and how gently he does it makes you inexpicably want to weep. “Please learn to teach him about love, instead, all over again.”

“Tooru,” a voice in you goes be quick, be quick, “what about the other boy? What happened to him?”

Tooru’s smile is watery as he leans in kiss to your forehead, then, your cheeks. “I’m afraid the whole story wouldn’t fit the last of our twenty minutes.”

With that, he rises up to leave. “And, that’s then end of that bedtime story.”

You reach out, and grab onto him, “You said you’d never let me go—“

But just when had he did?

There are tears at the corner of his eyes when Tooru leans down, whispers: may the arms of devotion deliver me.

And, then, you go under, slipping underneath the cover of sleep, so cold, so swift—

~~never let me go~~

*

You wake up 12 hours later, and wonder if you’ve had a dream.

(You think you dreamt of a boy, touched him even)

(But aren’t dreams just dreams?)

~~tooru? who made the real sacrifice here, actually?~~

there are far too many mouths
but not enough worth
what you’re offering
give yourself to few
and to those few
give heavily.
—rupi kaur

iwaizumi hajime/oikawa tooru, words: 719
minor description of injury/death, character death/reincarnation

you know from the very first time you meet him. you are five years old in this lifetime, playing quietly by yourself in the sandpit when he runs up to you and asks to play with you.

he looks the same. the same wide, brown eyes, messy locks (you used to run yours fingers through them, teasing them into an even worse state) curling across his face. he smiles at you and you feel like crying. (tooru, you want to scream, to pull him close, to hold with your own two hands and never let him go-) but you are five and you feel the gaze of your mother (a kind and lovely woman who deals well with your idiosyncrasies because sometimes you forget you are five, without the weight of the world on your shoulders) on you.

you nod and pat the sand beside you. you tell him to join you (you want to tell him to never leave). he sits down beside you, warm (and alive), and starts chattering in your ear (you never thought you'd miss this so much) about some show on television because he at least is all of five years old.

you remember little else from the rest of that day, the rest of those few hours spent with him, (for what could be more momentous, more notable than this). you spend the rest of the time in a daze, only replying briefly when he speaks to you, too caught up in his warmth, basking in his mere presence.

the time passes too quickly, the melting colours of the sky signalling an end to your day (it was red the last time around, a deep, fiery blood-red). as your respective mothers call for you, he turns to you and asks will we see each other again?

(it's too late by the time he reaches you. you can barely feel the pain anymore and you have fought enough battles to realise that that is a bad, bad sign. he isn't crying, but his teeth are clenched together in a way you know that means he is holding them back, that he is being brave again for others, for you.

he holds you tightly and you can feel his warmth, as if he can chase the cold away by his mere presence. he is muttering under his breath, eyes looking over you, still looking for ways that he can fix things, like he always does.

there are things that even you can not fix tooru, you say and you force yourself to smile. if nothing else this is what you want him to know, that you may have died saving him but it was he that saved you first, that it was he that fixed you, loved you and gave you a place in this world.

his fingers brush your cheek gently before he pulls away from you. there is nothing that i can not fix, he says and there is steel in his eyes, in his voice and it steals your (faltering) breath away.

he starts to murmur in foreign tongues, the words falling harshly off his lips in his haste. you think it sounds beautiful. you can feel his power in the air as his voice crescendos, the crackle of electricity that threatens to sting and burn, wild and dangerous just like he is.

take my heart, take my body, he is screaming now, take my future, take my past.

what are you doing, you whisper, feeling a chill.

fixing this, he says, determinedly. there is this look in his eyes that you have never been able to argue with and here, now, you find that you still can not argue with.

will we, you choke, your mouth dry, your breaths coming out short and shallow, will we see each other again?

he smiles, warm and bright like the sun, and nods. you may have to come and find me again though, he says voice hoarse, but yes, we will see each other again.

you grip his hands tightly. i will find you, you say.

there is a light and then darkness)

he is gripping your hands tightly as he blinks up at you, waiting for your answer. you smile and squeezes his hands in yours.

of course, you say.

(i've found you.)

Edited 2016-06-09 12:16 (UTC)

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Bonus Round 1: Memory

PROMPT: Team Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi

Re: PROMPT: Team Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

Re: FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

Re: FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

Re: FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

Re: FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

Re: FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

FILL: Team Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, G

FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G